


Trouble on Third Street

by wisdomeagle



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Geeks, Gen, Post-Chosen, squish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-12
Updated: 2005-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4704434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisdomeagle/pseuds/wisdomeagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They never talk anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble on Third Street

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JetWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetWolf/gifts).



> Written for jetwolf in my [Chinese Takeout Menu fic-on-demand](http://www.livejournal.com/users/wisdomeagle/506569.html) prompt post. Post-"Chosen," pre-"Damage." Spoilers also for the end of LotR.

I.

Buffy doesn't patrol anymore. She wanders, somewhat listlessly, through graveyards, with younger, stronger, faster Slayers surrounding her, doing the actual hunting while she... sits on a tombstone and sighs. Sometimes she picks at her nails. Xander's not sure what to do about this. There's so much that he's not thinking about -- his folks, his ex-ex-ex-girlfriend-demon-person, his town, all of which were destroyed in the same huge-ass explosion that's left Buffy mopey and non-patrolling. There's gotta be some way to, if not make her snap out of it, at least make her snap? She feels so brittle, carefully contained rage that's just gotta be unhealthy. One of these days, she's going to let it all blow, and he doesn't want to be in the line of fire. So he tries, tentatively, to make advances. "Never thought I'd see you here," he says.

"Where?" She looks around, checking to see if she accidentally wandered into Disneyland or something.

"This headspace," he clarifies. "Watching others do the dirty work for you." The minute he says it, he knows he's fucked up, gotten her on the defensive.

"Well," she says, "I never thought I'd see you lecturing me about duty."

"Not lecturing," he says, holding up his hands. "Trying to make small talk. Bad Xander. No cookie, clearly."

"Yeah," she says. "Listen, there's a group of Slayers over on Third..."

"Faith's got 'em," Xander tells her, but she's already gone, lightning-swift and leaving him with a charred feeling in his heart. "Acid reflux," he mutters to himself, and finds himself face-to-face with shining-eyed Willow, who always looks a little winded these days but is worse than usual tonight, bent over the tombstone Buffy abandoned and looking queasy. "You okay, Will?"

II.

"Fine," Willow gasps, willing herself not to throw up on Xander's shoes. In some ways they've gone back to their origins, and part of that means awkwardness. Never mind that Xander held her through a half dozen apocalypses, not to mention the mystical measles; she's turned into stuttery Willow in his presence. Not a crush, God, no, but something worse. Something like a friend-crush. Is there a word for what it feels like when you want to be someone's friend and he pretty much doesn't or maybe he does and you can't tell because you haven't had an actual talk with him since his former girlfriend died?

"Willow?"

She shakes her head and feels the strangeness of her chopped-off hair. Funny. After Tara she started growing her hair out again, and after she broke up with Kennedy, she chopped it all off again, but it still doesn't feel right, and she's still thinking about Kennedy too much. You can't forget these things with a haircut. "I'm okay," she tells Xander again. "I must've run too fast. I was over on Third... things are kind of crazy there. Faith's trying to teach them this game, and then Giles showed up. I don't think he was too happy about, you know, Faith's game."

"Is this the kind of thing I should book front-row tickets to?"

"Wha -- oh, no. Not that kind of game. I think it was actually Red Rover."

"Ahh. The good old days of playground games." Xander smiles and tilts his head in memory, and Willow wonders if he remembers that he and Jesse got banned from Outdoor Recess from a game of Red Rover gone wrong. Probably not. Let the good times roll. Then suddenly Xander frowns; he's remembered, somewhat belatedly. "Right. Changing the subject. How you doing?"

"Good," she says. "Tough night, but they're getting easier."

"Are you... you okay? With the magic and the spell and everything?"

She nods. He's feeling her out, checking for capital-E Evil in her system, but she knows that if she were to vein-out on them again, she'd be able to do it subtly. Knows, because the good magic and the bad magic are both under her skin, rippling and surging, fighting their way to the surface. "Who do you think will die first?" she asks. The question definitely isn't coming from her, but she pretends more than ever that the magic isn't in control.

"Buffy," Xander says, and he doesn't even bother to laugh; it's not funny because it's too true.

"For real. I thought it would be me. I never thought I could outlive you guys... it wouldn't be right. I was the sidekick. The redhead."

"The expression is 'red shirt,' Will."

"I know. But I thought."

"I know. Me too."

"Enough thinking," Buffy says, surprising both of them. "Willow, we have a situation on Third. I need your help."

"The bat signal calls," Xander grins, and Willow smiles weakly before jogging off after Buffy.

III.

As Buffy fills Willow in on the demonic forces converging on the Third Street Cemetery, she fights with herself, knowing she's going to lose. This is it, though. Tonight, she's telling them.

"Really? Spines?"

"Yeah." Buffy increases the pace, not really caring that Willow is lagging behind. "It's pretty gross. Listen, there's something I need to tell you."

"Not... not right now." Willow is a little breathless and clearly has no idea what she's going to say. 

"No, listen. We might be dead later. I need to tell you that I'm taking Dawn to Italy."

" _Italy_?"

"Look out!" Buffy twirls a stake into the vamp without breaking stride. When Willow finally looks up, she continues. "Yeah, Italy. I was thinking maybe you'd like South America. That's where I'm sending Kenn --"

"I broke up with her!"

"I know."

"And hey, what do you mean, you're sending? Didn't we agree Giles was in charge?"

"Okay, then I'm strongly suggesting to Giles that you and Kennedy take South America."

"I don't _want_ to go to South America." Willow stops, and Buffy weighs her options. Disaster on Third... but Willow's looking resolved. If she doesn't finish this now, there'll be no moving her.

"All right. Let me explain. It's not that I don't want to spend time with you guys, it's just... we've been together, neck-and-neck, for over a year. I'm just getting kind of claustrophobic. It would be good for us to spend time apart."

Willow is almost in tears. "You're... you're breaking up with us?"

Buffy has to laugh at that. "You guys are my best friends. You and Xander. I'm just... right now I need to find my own way, you know? Without having people from my past looking over my shoulder every minute."

"Oh." Willow can make her voice tiny and afraid. "I just... I never saw us like this."

"Apart."

"Broken," Willow corrects, accusingly. "You're breaking us up!"

"But that's just it, Willow. We _are_ broken. And I don't think us being together is helping any of us heal."

"I agree." 

Xander must've followed them. He never knows when to stay away from a fight, but maybe it's best that he's -- "Wait. You agree with me?"

"Yeah," he says, shrugging. "It's not what I saw for us either, but you've got to think of it in narrative terms. We won the war, but we lost stuff too. Eventually Frodo has to leave Sam, right? The Grey Havens are calling you, Buff."

"Sam followed him eventually though," Willow geeks.

"Exactly." Buffy debates making the cookie dough speech again but thinks better of it. "We've got to be apart, Will, so we can know whether we'll fit together again after, you know, we've done some living."

"That's what I said," Xander says.

"Is not."

Willow smacks his arm. "Okay. I... I guess I get it."

"Third Street?"

Willow nods. "Third Street."

**Author's Note:**

> Requested lyric:
>
>> I never thought I'd see you here  
> How did I outlive you  
> I couldn't see us apart, us broken -- Anthony Stewart Head, "End Game"


End file.
